As Seen On TV
by Rhysch
Summary: The Tenth Doctor finds himself in a parallel universe where he meets Sam and Dean Winchester, stars of the show 'Supernatural' back in his own universe. However, he soon discovers that in this universe, he's the TV show - the Winchesters are real!
1. Through the Crack

It was just like before—centuries ago, even. Running around with the energy and vigor of a young boy, leaping one way then hopping another, like an indecisive frog. He pulled a thick lever and spun a wheel. Racing around to the other side, his fingers glided over the controls, miraculously finding themselves on the correct buttons. To others it might have looked like child's play, but to him, it was art.

It kept him busy, at least. He told himself he enjoyed it, and that was the truth. A partial truth, anyway. He could never enjoy it fully, knowing that the craft was meant for many more than just himself. If only his family could see him now, flying a TARDIS on his own. They'd think he'd gone insane. Perhaps he had. Living for years without the company of one's own race had to take a toll on the mind.

And yet, here he was. If he could say anything about what he'd accomplished, he could say he survived. Not many would have chosen to live, he thought. Not with that amount of guilt on the conscience. But he did. He told himself he was doing the right thing—being brave and gallant, saving the world…. But he couldn't escape the fact that maybe, just maybe, he was punishing himself. Someone had to pay for the horrible events that had occurred, and he was the sole survivor. Living alone was a much crueler punishment than dying alone.

He watched the marvelous engine pump as the familiar sound bellowed through the spacecraft. Being alone, not having a companion, was sometimes easier. He didn't have to constantly mask his true feelings or put on a happy face for the sake of a human. He let his weary eyes wander around the room, as he let out a deep sigh. Honesty was relieving. The TARDIS knew him better than anyone. In it he felt stripped, naked, exposed.

Suddenly, the entire spacecraft shook. The Doctor found himself on the floor of the TARDIS without any memory of getting there. This was an unusual amount of 'turbulence'. He thought he'd had his 'space legs' by now, or at least he should after nine hundred years of time travel. But that particular disturbance had been greater than the average 'space bump'. Something was going on—something out of the ordinary.

He couldn't help but be excited. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was practically the only thing that kept him going. He could never get used to the rush that time travel gave him. It was even better when he didn't have to look for excitement—when excitement found him.

Holding onto the rail, he quickly jumped off the floor and took a look at the navigation panel. Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head. "What?" he heard his voice echo through the spaceship as he stared at the monitor. Eyes widening slightly, he gripped the rail and ran around to the other side of the engine, fingers flying across multiple buttons, levers, and wheels. Gripping one lever, he used his foot to push off the engine and pull it out. It seemed to get stuck in the most inopportune times, and he really needed to fix it. But the TARDIS's kinks seemed to make it more loveable to him. As he grew older, so did the TARDIS. They both had their faults.

But no time for sentimentalities. He pushed his converse harder against the engine and fell backward when the lever finally released. Hopping back up, he ran across the other side. The TARDIS shuddered again, and threw him across the room. Shrill sounds signaling impending doom came from the engine. The Doctor attempted to push himself off the floor, but the force was too great. He was hurtling through a crack of time, and there was nothing he could do about it.


	2. Intruders

With a massive lurch, the TARDIS jolted to a stop. The Doctor hopped dizzily to his feet, grabbing hold of the side of the wall for support. Putting a hand to his head, he blinked a few times and stumbled forward. Excitement bubbled in his stomach, an insatiable curiosity for the unknown that resided outside the door of the TARDIS.

Looking down at his hand, he frowned. Deep red blood stained his fingers. Closing his eyes momentarily, he shook his head and stumbled forward to the door. The adrenaline rushing through his veins pumped twice as fast as any human's ever could.

Many respected the Doctor for his outstanding bravery and selflessness, but in all reality, he was a rash and somewhat selfish being. He was a junkie. He couldn't stand _not_ looking outside that door. It was what kept him going.

This was the feeling that he lived for. The feeling that anything could happen, that anything was possible. That the difference between life and death lay outside that door, awaiting his presence.

He opened the door of the TARDIS and looked out. Bright light stained his eyes as he scanned the premises. There was a large fissure in the ground, light flooding out as the floor quaked beneath his feet. His eyebrows furrowed in alarm, but before he could further explore, the TARDIS pulled him back inside, traveling yet again.

The Doctor attempted to hop back to the engine, but he didn't get very far before he was knocked sideways. Gripping the railing, he held on as tight as he could.

He quickly took in his surroundings, assessing the damage, though that probably should have been the last thing on his mind. He really didn't have any idea where he would end up, let alone _when_. He remembered when the TARDIS traveled to the end of time in attempt to ward off Jack Harkness. But even then, the trip wasn't this rough. The only conclusion he could come to was the possibility of falling into a parallel universe—a phenomenon in itself.

The engine continued pumping, sounding its unique siren. The dynamic, indescribable noise it was known for. The Doctor noticed a few wires poking out, as well as some panels that seemed to have accumulated a fair amount of damage. As his eyes trailed to the floor of the TARDIS, his hearts nearly stopped completely. Two young men lay sprawled on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

He stared at the intruders. How was it possible? Then again, it had happened before. He remembered his more recent experience with Donna. It was highly unlikely that these men were in his TARDIS for the same reason.

The Doctor wanted nothing more than to question them, examine them, ask them how on Earth or any other planet they got inside his TARDIS sans detection. He could at least scan them when the TARDIS finally stopped.

He looked at them again. The intruders were both young men, or so the Doctor could gather from what he could see from his vantage point. One had lighter hair than the other, but both wore relatively the same attire. Heavy jackets and jeans. He couldn't shake the feeling that they seemed vaguely familiar—as if he'd seen them somewhere before. Then again, he _was_ a time traveler, so it might not be so strange if he had. The Doctor squinted again. He attempted to step forward, but the TARDIS shuddered and threw him back toward the wall.

The spaceship shuddered to a halt, and the Doctor let go of the railing. He managed to hop over to where the boys were without stumbling too much. The TARDIS floor swayed under his feet. Dizziness. Blinking furiously, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began to scan the intruders.

Both of them were human—his scan showed that much. As he continued to scan them, he glanced at the TARDIS monitors. He felt his body tense a bit as he stared at the information on the screen. Of course it was possible, but highly improbable. He furrowed his eyebrows, glanced back at the boys, then toward the door. They weren't conscious. He could take a quick look outside, couldn't he? Let curiosity get the best of him….

He opened the door of the TARDIS and looked outside. Another wave of adrenaline hit him, quite possibly his favourite feeling in the world. The rush of a new experience. "Impossible," he murmured, a smile breaking through his bewildered expression. "Brilliant. I've never landed in a plane before."

But before he could further explore, the TARDIS was traveling again. The intruders, however, weren't. "_What?_" the Doctor half-shouted in confusion as he spun back around, watching the boys' forms began to blur and disappear. The spacecraft trembled and shuddered through space of its own accord yet again, flinging the Doctor across the floor. He grabbed hold of the edge of the ramp and held on, wondering when and where the TARDIS would finally stop.


	3. Lord of Time

The TARDIS came to a sudden halt, sirens echoing among the various halls and resonating in the billowing arches. The Doctor scrambled to his feet, hopping over the railing and running to the engine.

He closed his eyes and swayed for a moment. His head was pounding, but he'd live. He was resilient—whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, he still wasn't entirely sure.

Reopening his eyes, he quickly scanned the monitors. 2010? What was so special about 2010? He'd passed by the year before, but nothing exceptionally significant had happened that he could recall. Especially nothing of this magnitude.

So what was it this time? A wormhole? Vortex? He glanced down at the other monitor, reading the information it provided. He'd been right with his first guess—parallel universe. Perhaps not the same one he'd visited before, but in theory there was an infinite amount of parallel universes, each one resulting from the consequences of different actions.

But then how would he get back? If the journey was this difficult getting _into _parallel universe, how would it be getting out? That was assuming he _could_ get out. He was lucky enough to find the Arton power cell last time. But luck was luck. He had to prepare himself to accept the fact that he might not make it out this time.

Then again, the TARDIS wasn't completely "dead" this time. But it certainly was not in any condition to travel. He considered being forced to remain in the parallel universe. What would he do? The mere act of existing in a parallel universe was the exact antithesis of a Time Lord's beliefs, let alone parading around and exploring the place. This entire universe was a point in time that he should have remained tangent to.

Which brought him to the ultimate question: why was he here in the first place? The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows, thinking of the various possibilities. He considered his initial theory of accidentally falling through a crack in time—a rare occurrence in itself. But twice in a lifetime? The idea was nearly unthinkable. He couldn't rule it out, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that. That something, or someone, was drawing him here.

After shutting of the sounding alarms, all was silent in the TARDIS. The Doctor breathed a heavy sigh, and bent down to the floor to check the bowels of the ship. His last glimmer of hope.

The Doctor peered into the bowels, searching for something—anything—that signaled hope for his return. It was darker than he expected. He was bound to have a flashlight somewhere in the TARDIS. The library, perhaps? He hopped back upright, shutting the floor of the TARDIS and rising to full height.

A man in a tan trench coat stood directly in front of him a few meters away. He was staring at the Doctor intensely, icy blue eyes wide and full of…something. Something the Doctor couldn't quite put his finger on. Awe, perhaps? Even a bit of skepticism.

The man merely stood there, and the Doctor was at a complete loss for words. He stood with his mouth agape, staring at the stranger. Most people, like Donna, would have been questioning where they were or how they got there. But this man…he just stood there with certain placidity, an eerie calmness.

Finally, the man spoke. It was a quiet, rough whisper that echoed around the walls of the TARDIS, settling in the Doctor's ears.

"_God?"_

The Doctor hardened his gaze. "_What?_" he said flatly, for what felt like the hundredth time.

The man in the trench coat stood completely still, blue eyes fixed on the Doctor. He looked human, at least. Dark, unkempt hair. White dress shirt, slacks, tie. Nothing out of the ordinary. But his demeanor—that's what completely mystified the Doctor. The way he stood there, so calm and collected. Yet, his solemn expression seemed to be a mask, disguising some emotion that the Doctor couldn't decipher—or rather, a mixture of emotions.

The Doctor took a step forward toward the stranger. As soon as he did so, the man took a small step back. Fear? Was that it? It wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary for one to be afraid in a situation such as this. But no, it was more than that. It was…respect. As if this man really did believe the Doctor was God.

"Who are you?" the Doctor said slowly, each syllable more drawn out than the last.

For a moment, the Doctor could see confusion flicker across the stranger's face. But it was soon replaced by the same reverence as before. Taking a small step forward, the man lowered his eyes and kneeled before the Doctor. "I am Castiel, your humble servant."

The Doctor had been venerated, loved, ignored—even hated. But never had he been proclaimed as God. Sure, he had traveled through a range of galaxies, rescued countless lives…. But even so, he hardly found himself worthy of the role of a hero, let alone _God_.

"Look," he said, taking a step back. "I'm not God. I'm just a Time Lord," he continued as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Castiel responded immediately, lifting his head, crystal blue eyes wide with awe. "You are Lord of time. You reign over all creation."

The Doctor paused, looking directly into Castiel's piercing gaze. "No, I'm not," he said quietly.

Castiel stood and held out his fist. The Doctor furrowed his eyebrows, looking down to see a leather string hanging from his grip. At the end lay a gold amulet. Castiel took a step forward. As he neared the Doctor, the amulet burned bright and swung toward him, as if attracted by some sort of magnetized field.

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Where did you get that?" he breathed, eyes fixed on the amulet.

Castiel lowered his fist back to his side and stared at the Doctor, expression changing to one of bewildered concern. "You are bleeding."

The Doctor instinctively put a hand to his head, feeling the sticky blood on his scalp that was beginning to coagulate. "Ah," he said casually, "It's not so bad. I've had worse."

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he took a step toward the Doctor. The Doctor could see the realization begin to set in—he wasn't God. He couldn't be God if he wasn't invincible.

"You…are not God," Castiel stated firmly.

"I know," the Doctor nodded in agreement, raising his eyebrows and hopping back toward the engine of the TARDIS and toying with a few of the controls. "Now that we're on the same page, would you like to tell me who you are and how it is you got here?"

Castiel took a few more steps toward the Doctor, more confident this time. The Doctor continued to focus on the engine, fingers gliding across the buttons with ease. Castiel tilted his head. "Who are you?"

The Doctor looked up, a brilliant grin stretching across his face. He thought Castiel would never ask.

"I'm the Doctor."


	4. Just Another Species

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed with confusion at the Doctor's introduction. The Doctor took a few strides over to where Castiel stood and pointed to the amulet in Castiel's fist. "Now, where did you get that?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"It belongs to Dean Winchester," Castiel answered simply.

The Doctor blinked. The name had a vague familiarity about it. "Where did he get it?" he asked, a hint of frustration present in his voice. He wanted to know what was going on. How had three different people been able to get in his TARDIS, when no one had ever been able to before? Was it merely the inner workings of this complex parallel universe, or was it something more? The number of possibilities seemed infinite—something that both excited and irritated the Doctor.

"I do not know," Castiel answered, tilting his head slightly in response. The confusion was now apparent in his expression.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and stepped closer to Castiel. His fingers twitched as his side, itching to know more about this strange creature. Castiel wasn't human—instincts told him that much. But then…what was he?

Castiel stood motionless. His blue eyes met the Doctor's brown ones, conveying his consent, as if he knew the Doctor's intentions. The Doctor closed his eyes and gently slid his fingers along the side of Castiel's face, entering his mind.

He opened his eyes abruptly, stumbling backwards. For a few moments, he was entirely speechless. Amazed.

"You're…_brilliant_!" he exclaimed, voice alive with childish curiosity and joy. He grinned, glancing over Castiel's form once more before continuing. "Angels…." he mused, pacing rapidly around the TARDIS. "There are hundreds of different religions, theories...a different set of beliefs for each individual person, all pertaining to deities of some sort. I suppose, theoretically, some are bound to be true," his voice echoed around the TARDIS as he hopped around the engine, maneuvering various controls absentmindedly as he spoke. "I mean, really, you're just species." He grinned widely again, eyes sparkling. "Brilliant."

Castiel frowned as he watched the Doctor with a strange expression, tilting his head again as he did so. "You are lonely," he said quietly.

Silence filled the TARDIS. The Doctor's smile faded only slightly. "Sometimes there's a sort of…emotional transference. Sorry about that." He pulled a lever upward and stood up straight.

"How much do you know?" Castiel questioned after a moment.

"Not much," the Doctor said, peering at a monitor. "You are a very powerful being. It's hard to stay in your head for very long without severely weakening myself."

Castiel nodded. The Doctor stood upright, brushing the dust off his pinstriped suit. Closing his eyes, he felt dizziness overcome him. He'd be fine, he told himself again. He always was. Now was no exception, especially when he had a visitor in his TARDIS.

"You're not well," Castiel's rough voice softened as he spoke.

"I'll be fine," the Doctor said quickly, opening his eyes and turning back to the controls. Perhaps he should have thought about his head injury before delving into the angel's mind, but he couldn't help himself. Curiosity got the best of him yet again.

"Head injuries can be fatal," the angel retorted.

The Doctor looked back at Castiel, narrowing his eyes. "I'll be fine…." He repeated as he swayed, stumbling a bit. The TARDIS was tilting at an odd angle. He felt the warm blood drip down his temple, darkness creeping into the edges of his vision as his body fell limp to the ground.


	5. Honoured

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for reading. Sorry this one's a bit late; I'm struggling with balancing the end of my senior year at the moment. I'll try to keep writing. Please review and let me know what you think.**

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The Doctor jolted awake, opening his eyes. The murmur of voices that had been steadily increasing in volume stopped abruptly. His eyes rested on a white ceiling. A flat ceiling.

Not his TARDIS.

There were no arches or rods. No beautiful metal railing. Instead, there was an empty flatness accompanied by ancient-looking stains. The Doctor shot up, scanning the room quickly, not bothering to see who was present.

"Oi!" he shouted, furrowing his eyebrows, "Where's the TARDIS?"

"Whoa, take it easy," a soothing voice said. A large hand rested on his shoulder, preventing him from standing.

The Doctor looked up to match the face with the voice. His face fell, eyes narrowing accusatorily. The voice belonged to a tall man with brown hair that was lingering along the top of his collared shirt. The same sense of familiarity overcame the Doctor, as if he knew this man from somewhere. Then it hit him.

"You," the Doctor said, pointing a finger. "_You_ were in my TARDIS."

The man furrowed his eyebrows, then turned his gaze to another man—slightly shorter with hair that was a few shades lighter. The other intruder. "Dean, what is he talking about?"

The Doctor looked around the room again, scanning his surroundings. The room was quite shabby—definitely lower scale. It entailed two queen-sized beds and a bathroom. The faded carpet had countless stains, origins of which the Doctor had no desire to know. The wallpaper was floral, matching the old comforters that resided on the beds.

"Dean?"

The shorter man merely stood there, eyes fixed on the Doctor as if stuck in a trance. The Doctor looked at him, quirking a brow. Finally, Dean seemed to snap out of his trance. Shuffling forward, he averted his eyes, seeming to look everywhere except the Doctor.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he finally settled his gaze back on the Doctor. "Doctor, it's uh," he said quietly, "It's an honour." He thrust his hand out, urging the Doctor to take it.

The Doctor took his hand uncertainly, shaking it but not breaking his gaze with Dean. "How do you know me?" he said slowly, tilting his head back a bit.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but thought better of it, averting his eyes back to the ground and closing his mouth. Taking a short breath, he looked back up to the Doctor. "Sorry," he breathed, "It's just… I'm a big fan." He shrugged slightly, offering a somewhat apologetic smile.

"Fan?" the Doctor asked, expression darkening. What was going on? Did he have fans in this universe? How many people knew about him?

"I'm sorry, _what_?" the Doctor asked, looking back and forth between the taller man and Dean. He rubbed his pounding forehead, which was not helping him in his complex thought process.

The taller man stepped forward in front of Dean, recognizing the Doctor's obvious confusion. "My name's Sam," he said gently. "And you've already met Castiel." The Doctor looked to the side, noticing the angel standing by the wall, silently observing.

His gaze flickered back to Sam. Sam…the name sounded extremely familiar. Sam and Dean. And Castiel. All of them were so bloody familiar. Something…there was something he wasn't remembering from before. Something…about the names? The names. The names were key. He furrowed his eyebrows, deep in thought.

Suddenly, it hit him. His eyes widened as he looked back up. "Sam Winchester?" he questioned. He glanced at Dean. "And Dean?"

The two men exchanged looks. "You know us?" Sam asked. Dean was staring at the Doctor, expression lingering between complete confusion and utter elation.

"Know you? Of course I know you!" the Doctor said, standing up and beginning to pace around the room as he often did, voice animated once again. "You're from that program on the telly! _Supernatural_, I believe it is. Yes, that's it." He scratched his head and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it quite disheveled. Spinning around quickly, he faced the men once again, looking at them accusatorily. "But how are you here…?" he said, voice suddenly darker with intrigue.

Sam and Dean were both wide-eyed. Even Castiel looked a bit shaken.

Dean stepped forward, eyebrows knitting, squinting slightly. "Wait a minute," he said, voice lower and rougher than usual. "Are you telling me that we—_us_—," he motioned to Castiel and Sam, head still bent forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the Doctor, "Are you telling me we're a _TV show?"_

Dean looked back at Sam, stony face void of any discernable emotion.

"I'm going to kill Chuck."

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**A/N (as of May 3rd): Sorry for not updating lately! School's coming to a close here and I have a ton of AP tests and finals to study for. But don't fret, I shall work on the story as much as I can. But I'm afraid I may not be able to update it so much until mid-May. Sorry for the hold up. I appreciate all the reviews, and thanks for the support!**


	6. Explanations

**A/N: Hey, sorry it's been a while since I've updated. But I've had a lot going on, including a death in the family. I'm also sorry this chapter is so short, but I'm slowly getting back into the story myself, so bear with me. Anyway, enjoy.**

"So let me get this straight," Dean said, traces of dry humour and disbelief in his deep voice, "you're a time traveler from a parallel universe where we—we're…celebrities?"

The Doctor stood directly in front of Castiel, staring at the angel. He broke his gaze to look back at Dean, eyebrows rising as he opened his mouth. "_Well_, not as much celebrities as characters, but," he nodded, glancing around the room as if mentally rechecking his logic, "yes, that sounds about right." His mouth curved upwards at the corners as he turned back to the angel, obviously intrigued. Putting his hand in his coat, he pulled out the sonic screwdriver and toyed with the settings before taking his time to scan Castiel thoroughly. The angel merely stood, blue eyes trained on Dean as if awaiting orders.

Dean exchanged exasperated looks with Sam and took a step toward the Doctor. "Look, Doc," he said, attempting to recapture the Doctor's attention, "I've been a fan of your show…I mean, well, _you_ for a while now and… you said it was impossible to travel back to a parallel universe."

"Did I? Doesn't sound like me," the Doctor remarked casually, still transfixed on the angel in front of him. "Anything is possible." He lowered the sonic screwdriver and turned to Dean. "But falling through a crack in time is very—_well _near the improbable. It's like traveling to Tralfamadore with a…well, nevermind. It's highly unlikely." He paused, thinking. "Twice in a lifetime isn't just a coincidence. No…something brought me here."

"Something?" Dean asked, glancing between the alien, the brother, and the angel.

"Or someone." The Doctor's voice quieted, the element of mystery present yet again. "I don't know…." He stared at Castiel's fist, which was still curled tightly around the amulet. His eyes flickered back up to both Dean and Sam animatedly. "But first things first—how did you get in the TARDIS?"

Sam stood up from his chair. "We were never in your, uh, TARDIS," he explained, running a hand through his hair then delving both palms into the pockets of his jeans.

"I'd remember," added Dean sheepishly. Sam spared him an exasperated, disapproving glance.

The Doctor considered their responses as he turned his sonic screwdriver to another setting and began to scan both Sam and Dean. Dean stared with wonder at the futuristic device. Sam squinted skeptically, backing away a bit as the Doctor stepped closer.

"Right, well," the Doctor said, inspecting the screwdriver and placing it back in his coat. "Where did you get the amulet?"

"Amulet?" Dean asked, still staring at the spot in the Doctor's coat where the sonic had been placed.

The Doctor made an irritated movement and brushed off his coat, beginning to pace. "Yes, yes, _your_ amulet. The one the angel has," he said, eyes drawn back to Castiel's fist.

Dean seemed to snap out of his reverie at the mention of Castiel. His gaze shifted to Castiel, who still stood against the wall obediently. "It was a gift," he said. "Sam gave it to me when we were kids." Dean looked back up to the Doctor, expecting an explanation.

All eyes shifted to Sam.

"Uh," he said, remembering. "Bobby gave it to me."

"Bobby?" the Doctor asked, slowing down his pacing to look Sam in the eye.

"A friend," Sam clarified, a bit more pointedly than necessary.

The Doctor nodded and looked around. "Where's your transport?"

"Transport?" Dean asked, just as it seemed to click in his mind. "Oh, transport." He grinned widely. He raised his eyebrows and spun his keys around his finger, gesturing to the door. "Doc, you may love your time machine but you haven't seen my wheels."


End file.
